


Run Run Run

by ninemoons42



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Character Study, Driving, Falling In Love, First Kiss, M/M, Photography, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-11
Updated: 2011-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur realizes he's falling in love. So what happens when Eames drops in after the Fischer job?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run Run Run

  
title: Run Run Run  
author: [](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**ninemoons42**](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/)  
pairing: initially one-sided Arthur/Eames  
warnings: Okay, then, this story was inspired by two major things: the image of Eames listening to [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H9BxyM6akss) [High and Mighty Color's Run Run Run], and [this](http://distracterisey.livejournal.com/6985.html) lovely piece of artwork by [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/distracterisey/profile)[**distracterisey**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/distracterisey/). You could also call it a practice run for [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/i_reversebang/profile)[**i_reversebang**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/i_reversebang/) [which I signed up for AND SO SHOULD YOU]?  
Various other evil concepts, cheerleading, and handholding provided by the awesome [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/dremiel/profile)[**dremiel**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/dremiel/) and [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/photoclerk/profile)[**photoclerk**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/photoclerk/). I was supposed to write a sex scene into this but - um, I let Arthur get away from me in this one? Ha ha? XD  
This fic contains information on Porsche sports cars, J-music, and US Route 66 [the main setting of the first _Cars_ , the Pixar film]. Snark and eventual romance.  
Title and cut text taken from the aforementioned song.  
disclaimer: I don't own the original story or the characters. Not making any profit, just playing in the sandbox.  
summary: Arthur realizes he's falling in love. So what happens when Eames drops in after the Fischer job?

  
When the plane touches down at LAX, Arthur smiles fondly as Cobb walks out of the airport, watches as Miles shakes his hand and bears him off to his children. He smiles knowingly at Ariadne, who is going to turn right back around and fly back to Paris, first class. He nods, formally, to Saito; he understands the quiet triumph in those steely eyes, and he turns away from the sudden oldness in them. He grins as Yusuf chases Ariadne down and asks, shyly, for her number.

When he locks eyes, very briefly, with Eames, who has been left holding Yusuf's bag, he chuckles, and smiles a comradely smile at him.

And secretly, he tucks away that startled, fleeting answer of a smile in the back of his mind.

After all, he may be Arthur, but even he can never get any guarantees as to whether he'll even see Eames again. For all Arthur knows, the kingly sum of money they each received from Saito would be enough to see Eames permanently gone from the business.

[And good for Yusuf, then - but Ariadne is a tough cookie, Arthur thinks, and he wishes the chemist luck. He decides to send him some wishbones when he can.]

When his flight to Chicago is called, Arthur picks up his bag and his coat and he strides back through the airport.

He thinks he catches a glimpse of Eames in that black suit with the scarlet chirimen lining, but he's gone and inside the plane before he can look back and make sure.

///

On the second night back from the Fischer job, Arthur receives a warm and slightly garbled email from Dom - he can call him Dom again, the blonde insists at the outset. "Come and see us when you can. As much as the children have missed me, they've missed their Uncle Arthur too."

He spends three weeks resting, napping, and running around Chicago. He buys maps and he combs through the second-hand bookstores and public libraries for travel guidebooks from the '60s and '70s. He watches _Cars_ several times and he spends several nights comparing the merits of a 1986 Porsche 911 Carrerra Cabriolet and a 2003 Porsche 911 GT3 RS.

He knows several people who would laugh at him for such pleasures. Mal would have been the first, and he wouldn't have begrudged her the laugh.

He decides to get the newer car and extends the list already on the refrigerator door: November lilies, original Eeyore + thistles, map, Glenfiddich, chewy choco-chip cookies, Nina Simone/Marlene Dietrich.

///

Arthur begins his day by locating a package of wishbones, to be delivered to Yusuf's last known location in Mombasa, and then packs his things for the drive west.

Arthur has to sit a little on his suitcase to close it.

He makes himself breakfast - last night's deep-dish pizza leftovers and a bowl of diced fruits in honey - and he tucks his gun into the holster riding his hip, because he's probably going to have an uneventful trip but it's better to have the gun and not need it than need the gun and not have it. He's hauling his things out to the car when it happens.

"Hello," and there is Eames, standing on the sidewalk.

The first thing Arthur does is walk back inside the house; he rolls his die three times on the table where he leaves his keys. It comes up on four every time.

So, reality.

He's not surprised Eames tracked him down. The question is, why today?

Arthur walks back out. His suitcase is still there, and now there is an oversized leather carry-on sitting on top of it, presumably belonging to Eames.

Eames is also carrying a second, smaller leather bag, and he is carefully eating a sugar-glazed doughnut. There's a cup of coffee sitting atop a paper napkin on the roof of the Porsche.

Arthur sternly orders his heart to stop fluttering, and it takes a moment before he can get his voice back - but he's proud of himself when it comes out steady and even pleasant: "Want anything else with that?"

"Oh, I'm sure I can find something else along the way," Eames says.

Arthur shrugs and starts walking around to the driver's seat. "And what can I do for you today, Mr. Eames."

"Interesting question," Eames says, and pops the last bite of doughnut into his mouth. "Because I've come here under the impression that there was, in fact, something I could do for you."

Arthur inclines his head and folds his arms atop the car. "And that is?"

"Well, entertain you, of course," Eames says, and grins, crooked teeth and all.

Arthur is back to the stern self-reprimands. He is not going to blush.

"A little bird told me," Eames is going on, seemingly not noticing Arthur's suddenly shaking hands, "that you were going on a bit of an adventure. I'm surprised I've caught you, truly - I figured I'd have to be chasing you all the way across the continent."

"A little bird? Does this bird wear scarves? Or perhaps it lives in Kyoto?"

"Well, all right, I asked everyone: Yusuf, Ariadne, and our recent benefactor," Eames laughs. "I have of course done you the courtesy of not spoiling your surprise for Mr Cobb."

"Lucky me," Arthur says, dryly.

His mind is already racing with the possibilities. On the one hand, he's going to get to have Eames all to himself for at least a week, depending on how quickly he felt like driving.

On the other hand, of course, it's going to be just Eames and him for a week.

He doesn't even want to really think about the sleeping arrangements.

But he lets none of that show, and he gives Eames a pleasant smile, and he motions him into the passenger seat.

When they're both buckled in and the motor is humming happily under Arthur's hands and feet, he turns to Eames and says, solemnly, "A few rules of the road before we go?"

"By all means," Eames says in exactly the same tone.

"Rule Number One," and Arthur plugs his iPod in. "Driver calls the tunes."

Eames grins, but says "Yes."

"Rule Number Two. Shotgun helps by reading the map, watching the road, and assisting the driver as necessary."

Eames nods, and he actually does look serious. "Of course."

"Rule Number Three. No one is eating inside or on this car. Water doesn't count as long as not a drop is spilled. And please hold all cigarettes out the window unless in use."

"This is a fine car, Arthur, and surely I'd not want to insult him/her/it."

"Him." Arthur drops his eyes a little, then lets himself smile. "McQueen."

Eames huffs out a small chuckle.

"Okay, let's go," and Arthur revs the engine, lets the smile grow wider as it roars happily, and then he disengages the hand brake and they're off. "We'll stop for a few more supplies, and then we're starting from Michigan Avenue."

He waits a few moments for the lightbulb, and he's not disappointed.

"US Route 66," Eames says, quietly. There's a small, growing something - admiration? - in his eyes. "Really?"

"I have a nearly completed route from here to LA," Arthur says as they stop at a traffic light. "We're going to have to use some of the alternate alignments, though."

"Hidden depths," Eames laughs after a moment. "Is this your idea of a hobby?"

"It's my idea of a road trip," Arthur says quietly.

"Well I can't say I can't agree. I suppose I'm glad I brought this."

Arthur watches Eames out of the corner of his eye as he unpacks an Olympus E-PL1 in black.

"Nice," Arthur says, and he's serious, and he admires the way Eames's hands move confidently over the camera. He's not at all surprised when the next thing Eames does is actually raise the thing in his direction and fire off a few shots, and he turns his eyes back to the road. They're already coming up on the marker, on Adams at Michigan Avenue.

He slows down and Eames takes pictures of the road as they set off.

///

Ten hours later, Eames suddenly asks, "You're not planning to drive all night?"

Arthur laughs and turns the music down, and Dietrich fades into soft white noise. "I wasn't, but since you're asking so nicely...."

"I take it back," Eames says hastily, and he laughs, too. "At the very least I've got to stop to use the facilities."

"You should've said something."

"I am now."

And Arthur guns it, and McQueen takes off like a shot, the wind whipping at Arthur's hair through the open windows. He's let his hair grow out a little, though it's nowhere near long enough to need tying. A few minutes later the blazing dead-white light of a gasoline station comes up on Eames's side of the road and Arthur peels off smartly, executes a neat whip-round and he's parallel-parked between a minivan - there's a huge dog in the window, part Labrador and part slobber - and a smart little Japanese speedster.

"Show-off," Eames says as he gets out of the car.

"Of course," and Arthur gets out, too, stretches his legs and downs a bottle of water. He waves at the dog, and it continues to stare lugubriously at him.

He's rooting through his provisions for the cookies when Eames returns, hand held out.

Arthur merely raises an eyebrow at him, teasing.

"Don't make me beg - I look like shit when I beg," Eames says, grinning. "Or, let's try logic: since you have been driving for X number of hours I'm pretty sure you're shattered or close to it - and no use hiding it, Arthur, I think I know you well enough by now."

"I should hope not," Arthur says, and mock-frowns, but in the end he throws the keys to Eames and temporarily gives up on the cookies, then trots around the car to get into the passenger seat. He pretends to be disinterested while Eames goes through his own stretching routine.

"I assume you've already got a stop in mind?" Eames asks as they get back onto the road.

"Yes. Fifty kilometers ahead; you tell me how long it'll take to get there."

"Too short," Eames sighs. "You'll have to wait till tomorrow for my music, then."

///

Before they can even have the couch vs. bed discussion, Eames is bunking down on the floral-patterned monstrosity, the pistol that had been concealed somewhere on his person in its holster and on the side table, and he must have actually been tired - maybe jet lag? - because he's asleep, really asleep, as soon as his head hits the cushions.

That leaves Arthur with nothing to do except sit on the bed, and sigh, and put his head in his hands.

This might be the very worst idea he's ever had.

///

When Eames is done fiddling with his own iPod the next morning, he's smiling like a loon.

Arthur feels his eyebrows crawl upwards.

"So you're Ariadne's source?" Arthur has to yell a little to be heard over the music. "You actually like this stuff?"

"Don't be absurd - Saito's our source. Oh, take that scandalized look off your face - I don't mean he listens to Miyavi and Gackt and Laruku and all the rest, himself. It's just that during the job, he found out I was into J-music, and he's been sending me all these albums ever since. I share them with Ariadne, of course, if they're rares or something she doesn't already have. But she has her own means of buying the CDs."

"I don't even know who those bands or those people are." And in its own way, it's strange and it's wonderful and it's entirely too funny, and Arthur gives up and throws up his hands and simply laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and all the while a band is shrieking in what really does sound like Japanese but is getting shredded by all the wild guitars and drums.

Eames grins, and sings along.

And Arthur looks away when he's finished laughing, and he catches his breath, quietly, the beat of his heart entirely lost in the deep, melodic rumble of the other man's voice.

///

The problem with being on a road trip, driving relaxed and loose through a handful of states, is that it gets more and more difficult to hide a crush.

Arthur's driving McQueen at top speed when they finally hit New Mexico, and he stops so Eames can take photos of the wild flat desert, and of the sunset, and then, surprisingly, of the stars overhead.

They're far away enough from humans and artificial light that it only takes a few minutes for Arthur's eyes to adjust - and he catches his breath as the night sky resolves into bright stars and the serene veil of the Milky Way.

Something clicks nearby, and when Arthur looks over he's expecting to see Eames pointing the camera up - but it's not.

It's pointed straight at him.

And Eames looks quietly embarrassed, peering at him in the ghostly light over the viewfinder.

He also looks - well, he looks like Arthur. He looks like a man who's been quietly falling in love.

Arthur feels his breath hitch, hard, in his chest, and it takes an effort to keep his voice light when he asks, "Am I really that much more interesting than the stars? Than - this?" And he throws out his arms to the sky and to the sand.

But all Eames does is put the camera down on the driver's seat and he literally runs around to where Arthur is standing in front of the car, and Arthur gasps when Eames simply takes his wrists in turn, wraps them around his broad shoulders and then he's being kissed to within an inch of his life.

"No shit?" is all Arthur can say, while they're standing there on the shoulder and leaning on each other, foreheads touching, breaths gusting hot over each other's cheeks.

"If you need more convincing - " is all he hears Eames say, and they're colliding again, two people standing and kissing on the side of a deserted New Mexico road, while the world dissolves into starlight and shadows.

///

That night, Arthur lets Eames pillow his head on his shoulder, traces his tattoos wonderingly.

"Since when?" Eames asks, suddenly.

"Since...hmm."

He feels Eames huff out a laugh and it's warm against his throat. "I am...you have no idea what that pause did to me."

Arthur moves his fingers into the short tufts at the nape of Eames's neck. "Please don't tell me I actually was that transparent."

"You really did do a good job of hiding it," he hears Eames say, and he sounds sincere. "And I didn't want to do anything because, well, I was thinking if I was wrong and I let you know, I'd never see you again."

"You're joking, right? You found me in Ballarat, in Cancun, in Battambang. And in Chicago."

"I hadn't quite done anything to piss you off permanently, had I?"

Arthur laughs at the qualifiers, knowing he can laugh now. "I seem to have mellowed down. Don't tell the world."

"Never." And he shivers as Eames brings his palm up and kisses it gently.

///

Eames is at the wheel when Arthur suddenly says, "Let's take a detour."

"Going where?"

"Meteor Crater."

And the car kick up a shower of pebbles and dust as Eames peels smartly off onto the access road.

They look down into the crater for a long time, and Eames takes a lot of pictures, but Arthur leaves him to it, and fills a small glass vial with sand from the portion of the rim where they're standing.

"It's for James," he says when Eames turns an amused look on him, squatting on his heels and sifting the fine sand through his fingers. "I remember Mal talking about him, back then, and how he quieted down when she looked out at the stars with him."

Eames nods and hovers over him, offering some shade, as Arthur seals the vial with a piece of cotton and a cork.

///

The first thing they do when they get to Los Angeles is detour to the cemetery where Mal is buried.

Arthur watches as Eames lays a single white rose on the tombstone, presses a kiss into his fingertips and then into the tombstone. Then Eames walks away, touches Arthur on the shoulder. "Come back when you're done here. McQueen and I will be waiting."

Arthur kneels in his own turn, offers three November lilies. They're tied together with a burgundy ribbon. Mal's favorite color.

He permits himself a sad little smile, and he presses his palms onto the tombstone.

When he comes back to the car, he wordlessly holds his hand out, and Eames passes him the keys, catches his hand and kisses the inside of his wrist.

"Let's finish this trip," Arthur says, after a long time just standing there, with Eames breathing over his pulse, and he smiles at him, and this one he lets reach all the way to his eyes.

///

They ask a policeman to take their picture at the Will Rogers monument on Ocean and Santa Monica, and they simply sit in the grass next to the western terminus.

It's Eames's idea to have one of the photos turned into a postcard.

"Not email?" Arthur asks. "You sure?"

"It's our feet, and we are wearing perfectly ordinary shoes, are we not?"

Arthur tilts his head sharply. "And if we get jumped because someone identified us by our shoes then I'm turning you into a human shield."

Eames laughingly spreads his arms wide. "By all means."

///

When they finally make it out to the Cobbs', the lines around Arthur's eyes have deepened with all the smiling.

He looks at Eames and he has to laugh. Slightly sunburnt and sandblasted, and a little tired, and he's never looked better.

Philippa and James knock them both down with happy laughter and sweet voices.

Arthur watches as Dom's eyes widen, then narrow in his near-infamous squint, and finally he nods, all approval, and he really doesn't need it, but it feels nice to have it all the same. Just this once.

 **fin**   



End file.
